​A couple of weeks ago I agreed to partner with WellCare Healthcare Plans, Inc. and serve as a spokesperson about a study to gauge seniors’ attitudes and behaviors about their Medicare coverage. The study, called “The Cost of Complacency,” found that if we seniors don’t review our plans, we may not have the right coverage and may be paying more than we need to. You can find more details on the survey by checking out my blog on Forbes.com.

I agreed to participate as a spokesperson because I thought the message was pretty important, namely, that seniors like me should look carefully at the Medicare plans available to them to make sure we’re signed up for the right program; that we’re getting the right coverage for our needs; and that we’re not spending money on things we don’t need. Also, the deadline for signing up is December 7th so this conversation is very timely and newsworthy.

Last week I flew up to NY to participate in a satellite media tour, which involves doing nearly 25 interviews on morning TV shows, radio programs and Internet sites throughout the country. I spoke to anchors from Milwaukee, Jacksonville, Hawaii, Baltimore, and a bunch of places I can’t recall because I learned never to say the name of the place or the person I was speaking with at the moment. That’s not a mistake you want to make on live TV.

Throughout the interviews, I realized that I knew more than I thought I knew. Indeed, all of my work on the articles and books I had written over the years really did make me an expert.

I spoke from my own experience because it humanized me. I talked about how the blood pressure guidelines changed and that may put me in a higher risk category even though my blood pressure hadn’t changed…only the guidelines had. I talked about how I had been on autopilot just like many other seniors but that I might also need to review my coverage because my particular situation changed. Medicare is my primary insurer and I have secondary coverage through my wife’s former employer. But I may be better off with a different approach.

We should all be looking at our insurance products. And regularly. When I realized that, like so many others who took the survey, I paid more attention to my phone bill and Internet charges than I did to my Medicare plan, I was just as negligent as my peers.

So here I am Googling Medicare plans and trying to make sense of all the terms and numbers. I’m considered one of the experts, yet I’m confused. How do I balance what my health needs will be next year with the terms of each plan? How do I decide whether to keep the doctors I have now with lower costs if, indeed, the costs are lower?

I think I’ve got my answer. For now, I’m choosing to stay with traditional Medicare because my surgeon does not participate in a Medicare Advantage plan. But for all of you who may not have done the analysis, let me remind you that you have until December 7th to enroll in the Medicare plan of your choice for 2018. If you stay on autopilot, you’ll be automatically renewed in your current plan.

Here are four things you can do to make sure you make the right decision:

There used to be something called “A-Semitism.” That meant, to me, unawareness that while you know there are people who are different from you, you don’t really know anything about them and they never enter your sphere.

A-Semitism is not a new word. It was used almost a hundred years ago, in 1919, by the Jewish writer and politician V.E. Zhabotinskii, as a precursor to anti-Semitism. He defined it as a “disinterested desire to be free of the unwanted element in one’s own social circles.” Later, in 1949 it appeared in an article about a study of anti-Semitism in Russia. The author of the study, Gregor Aronson, was quoted as saying “A-Semitism is not Jew-hatred in the usual sense of the word.” Rather, he says, “It seems to be characterized by indifference to the Jews and any matter in which they, as Jews, are involved.”

In my life A-Semitism manifested in things such as holding public meetings on Jewish holidays and the organizers not being aware of that fact (Jewish holidays weren’t always listed on mass-produced calendars) or in serving only ham and cheese sandwiches on school outings.

But my first real brush with A-Semitism was when I was a freshman at Carnegie Mellon University in 1965. My very first test as a college student – my very first test – was in freshman chemistry and was scheduled for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, no doubt the holiest of Jewish holidays. And while I wasn’t particularly devout, at that time in my life my family generally observed the holiday by going to services and fasting. I found myself in a dilemma. Do I take the test and deny my heritage or tell the professor that I would be honoring the Jewish holiday and would need to take a makeup test. I feared that second option because I had been told that makeup exams were notoriously much harder. I don’t think the professor was anti-Semitic. I think he just had no notion that there was a Jewish holiday called Yom Kippur and that it was on that same day.

I wound up taking the exam. And I don’t think in my four years there were any more conflicts with Jewish holidays. No doubt someone pointed this out to the professor and word spread.

Nowadays, of course, it would be very unlikely for a person to unknowingly organize an event on an important Jewish holiday. Or on a Muslim holiday. Those events are printed on calendars and there’s widespread awareness. And if an event was mistakenly scheduled, the conflict would quickly be pointed out and the event rescheduled. We know that organizers would never schedule an event on a Christian holiday because, of course, most of the Christian holidays have become national holidays.

So I can honesty say that even in the most remote areas of our country, there is probably no more A-Semitism. There’s still plenty of anti-Semitism, as we’ve just witnessed. But the notion that there’s no awareness of Jewishness, our holidays or customs, is ludicrous. Is there still a desire to be free of an unwanted element? Certainly. That’s Anti-Semitism. But “unawareness?” Or as Aronson called it, “Indifference?” I don’t think that’s possible in this country anymore. Jews and Jewishness have permeated society and reached everyone. The key, now, is to harness that interest and get rid of the “anti” part of the word.

]]>Mon, 25 Apr 2016 15:40:48 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/being-old-politically-incorrect-or-wise-beyond-my-yearsWhen did it become a bad thing to be politically correct? It seems to me it’s an odd thing to be against. Isn’t political correctness just being sensitive to other people’s feelings? If someone wants to be called Jack instead of John, I call him Jack. Not a big deal. If someone wants to be called Caitlin instead of Bruce, ok. I can deal with that. Long ago, when I was a child, I called any guy who was effeminate a “homo.” I didn’t really know what it meant, but I knew it was pretty negative. And, actually, I don’t think I meant it in any sexual way. I think I was referring to the fact that he was a lousy athlete. He threw like a girl. And how awful was that!

We didn’t really know any “homos,” although I guess I did but didn’t realize it. In fact, a childhood friend came out as gay quite some time ago. But when we were kids it didn’t occur to me that he was gay. At the time all that mattered was he couldn’t play ball. I ridiculed him for that.

So now I refer to any member of the LGBT community with respect. Frankly, I try to refer to anyone with respect, even if I vehemently disagree with his or her personal, political, or religious beliefs. And God knows there are many who fit that category. But I care to not offend anyone if I don’t have to. It doesn’t take much effort. I just change my speech a little.

But somehow our citizens have decided that to be politically correct is bad. Why is that? I get that it’s confusing. When I was growing up Negro was the respectful term for people who now refer to themselves as either African-American or black. And I’m not sure I now know whether to use African-American or black. I tend to prefer black for a couple of reasons. First, it’s shorter and easier to say. But second, I know white African-Americans. When I visited South Africa I met many Africans who were white. I met Africans who were Jewish and white. If they moved to this country would I then refer to them as Jewish-African-Americans? How many hyphens am I supposed to put up with? The short answer is—if I want to respect someone—however many they want.

But lately my soapbox is about the word “old.” As I’ve written before, (http://www.nextavenue.org/growing-older-has-its-benefits/) being “older” is good. It means I didn’t die. That’s pretty much the only definition. I didn’t die so I continue to live and each day, each moment, I’m older.

But it has so many other definitions that I reject. We put a judgment on the term. Old is bad; old is feeble; old is demented; old is helpless; old is pathetic. Keep going. There’s almost no end to the number of negatives we put on the word. But old is good. Old, I remind you, means I didn’t die. That’s a good thing in my book. Isn’t it interesting that we compliment people by saying they’re “wise beyond their years.”

In the spirit of being politically correct, maybe I should refer to myself as an “Older-American.” Or maybe an “Older-Not-feeble-not-demented-not-helpless-not-pathetic-wise-beyond-my-years-American. That’s 13 hyphens if you’re counting.

]]>Tue, 12 Apr 2016 22:06:34 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/what-you-are-now-is-where-you-were-when1There’s a wonderful theory from Morris Massey that help us understand who we are and who we’ve become. The theory is, “What you are now is where you were when.” And the “when” is around the time we reach those wonderful, early teen years, age 14 or 15. Up until then, the world is all about just ourselves. But something happens when we get to 14 or 15. We see ourselves as part of the world. We socialize. And we often start developing our outlook on life. Call it even the beginning of our philosophy of life. If I were to ask you what was going on in your life, within your immediate environment, or in the world you were experiencing at 14 or 15, there’s a good chance that period will have been significant to you and will have remained a driving force in your life.

I turned 15 in 1963. In addition to having just started high school, as most of us did around that age, that summer I had the opportunity to travel around the country with a camp. Forty 15-year olds traveling by bus, camping around the country. I had never left NY except for a quick school trip to Washington DC, or to nearby states to visit relatives. Imagine what that was like for a NY kid to experience this great and vast country for the first time. The Grand Canyon, the great plains, Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone. It was the first time I experienced anti-Semitism when some locals in the St. Louis area yelled epithets at us, things like “Go home, dirty Jew.” Imagine when a few of us in 1963 went to a store in Nebraska to buy breakfast and wanted bagels and lox. Bagels? Huh? What’s that? Lox? Oh sure, you can get locks at the hardware store. Oh, locks (L-O-C-K-S, not L-O-X).

What an amazing time for an impressionable 15 year old. I came home inspired. I read Travels with Charlie by John Steinbeck – twice. I was changed.

Then the big event of 1963 happened. It was a universal experience. Every one of you who is 55+ can recall vividly where you were on Nov. 22nd, 1963. We went from believing in Camelot to disbelief.

Think about what we all went through, some at very, very young ages, some a bit older. Let’s look at some of the highlights of the baby boomer early years. And think about when you were 14 or 15.

We were too young to remember May 17, 1954. But we lived in the aftermath of that day. That’s the day the Supreme Court ruled “Thou Shalt Integrate your Schools.” Parents and teachers around the country broke into tears, particularly in the south. They cried because they said it was the beginning of the end of the world. And they were right. It was the beginning of the end of a world that needed to end. But a new world was beginning. And they just didn’t know how fast. No would, even Marshall McLuhan, the father of the electronic age, understood the incredible effect television would have. We all got to see on TV Governor George Wallace at that school door with police dogs snarling at the young black kids trying to go to school.We saw the horror of black kids blown up at Sunday School. We saw the black community, joined by many others, protest in the streets, demanding that Jim Crow laws end.

All of it was chronicled on television. But there’s no event that exemplifies the profound effect of TV and mass communication more than Nov. 22, 1963. We saw it all live. We ALL saw it live. One people, the entire earth froze emotionally. The assassination, the funeral, the aching sadness. Kennedy was idealism personified. He was elected on TV, he lived in the White House on TV, and he died for real on TV.

Through the sixties we saw everything in our living rooms, sitting around watching TV. We saw our heroes die, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Bobby Kennedy. We saw the riots, we saw the protests. We saw the Vietnam War in our living rooms! All the blood and gore as we sat around eating dinner, watching the news.

So before most of us were 20 years old, we had seen death and destruction up close and personal. And we saw the US no longer as the infallible, unbeatable country. Some of us questioned authority, some of us protested, some of us fled, and some of us died.

We saw our mothers and sisters burning their bras and demanding equality. They wanted opportunity. Betty Friedan’s monumental book, The Feminine Mystique, written in 1963, sparked a revolution. But to her credit she didn’t exclude men. In fact, she pointed out that “Men are not the enemy, but the fellow victims.”

And then there was the draft. Whether you were a young man or a young woman, you knew someone affected. If you were in school you were safe. But you damned well better stay in school or, guess what, you ship out. The Vietnam War was a war fought by poor guys, including a huge overrepresentation of black guys who didn’t have the opportunity to go to college. How many of you know guys who took prescription drugs to raise their blood pressure, or tried to get out of the draft on a psych deferment, or went to Canada, or tried to get a Conscientious Objector deferment.

And how many guys were questioning whether they didn’t want to go into the army because they thought the war was wrong or because they were scared. Am I against this war or am I a coward? That’s a tough question to ask yourself, especially as a teenager. I was one of those who thought about that question. And when you scratch the surface, you’ll probably find many others like me.

And remember how many of us scorned those who did go, those who faced their fears and did what they were asked to do. Those whom we mistreated.

Despite that, I’m damned proud of what we boomers have accomplished. No one would ever imagine just how far we’ve come. But our work is not over. And, more to the point, we don’t know what’s coming, do we? We know our bodies will continue to change. We know we’ll lose more of our friends and relatives. We’ll have heartbreak and suffering, and we’ll “kvell” watching our kids and grandchildren flourish. Those are the givens.

We also know a great deal more about ourselves, who we are. Our future is bright, even with all the difficulties some of us will face. We were inspired early in our lives to make a difference. Many of us continue to do so. Many do volunteer work in your communities, reminiscent of JFK’s charge to ask what you can do for your country. Or for your world. The status quo was never acceptable to us. We’re seeking the balance between work, community, family, and our selves.

The inspiration for my book, AARP Roadmap for the Rest of Your Life was Gail Sheehy, the author of the seminal work, Passages. Gail tells her story of her husband, Clay, who was ill and undergoing palliative care. The palliative care doctor came to their home and asked Clay, “What are your goals for this stage in life?” I thought, what an interesting question to ask of a man who clearly was quite ill and likely going to die soon. I don’t remember what Gail said about Clay’s answer. But he had an answer. And I realized that I didn’t.

So, my friends, I ask you, “What are your goals for this stage in life?” Who’s in front of you? Who are your role models? What will we do for the rest of our lives, knowing a lot more about who we are and where we were when!

As Betty Friedan once said, “Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength.”

]]>Sun, 20 Mar 2016 15:50:45 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/dying-with-nothing-to-say-a-responseI read an interesting op-ed recently by Katie Roiphe called “Dying with Nothing to Say” in which she talks about “last conversations” and being able to have a conversation with a dying loved one. I strongly recommend you read it (http://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/20/opinion/sunday/dying-with-nothing-to-say.html?_r=0) and think about it.

I thought a lot about what Ms. Roiphe wrote and, of course, it makes sense. I have often repeated to people that when my mother died, I felt that she and I had connected and said our goodbyes. I described it as “we were clear with each other, we were confident in our love.”

But I didn’t regret not grilling her with answers to my questions. Of course I had many. Of course I wanted to know everything I could about her, her life, and our relationship, since I knew I wouldn’t have another chance. But is that really the right time? Not in my opinion. There’s no right time to have that conversation (except maybe right now). But if you haven’t, is the right time when your parent is leaving you? Frankly, I don’t think so. I’d like to think what my mother wanted from me on her deathbed was thanks and assurance that I would be fine. Like what Ms. Roiphe said about wishing she had reassured her father that he didn’t need to worry about her or her daughter. I think my mother wanted to die peacefully knowing that the people she loved would remember her, would love her, would appreciate all she did for us, and would go on to have happy, fulfilled lives. Isn’t that what parents want for their children? Isn’t that what we want for any of our loved ones? Isn’t that what I could have given my dying mother? The peace she wanted.

Before my mother died and indeed, before my father died many years later, I made sure I asked many of the questions about their lives. I had more and I didn’t get all the answers. But I got what I needed. Questions still come up, many years after both of my parents died. And sadly, I will not be able to get those answers. It’s not like being able to uncover a new room in King Tut’s burial chamber. I won’t know how my mother and my wife would have loved each other because they never got the chance to meet. Or what she really thought when she was on stage singing at the Palace Theater. Or what it was about my father that drove him to go to night school to become a lawyer, despite being a high school drop out. Or what it is about me that comes from them.

But I do know that the last time my father and I spoke, just a couple weeks before he died, he told me that he was at peace. He used the word “content.” I hugged him then and told him I was happy to hear that. He had seen me grow up. He had seen that my brother and I had created good lives for ourselves. He really was content. We had achieved, what Mr. Roiphe called “clarity.”

Thirty inches! Snowzilla! Records broken. Never again. We just have to get out of here.

But is this the best time to make that big decision to move south? (Full disclosure, I am writing this in the kitchen of the townhouse in Florida I rented for the month of January. So yeah, I missed the big one. Again. Oh darn.)

In AARP Roadmap for the Rest of your Life, I discuss the level of activity scale, a measure of how active you are and/or wish to be.

A healthy, active person who jogs or works out often, works long hours, and is basically a Type A, would score very high on the scale. I then pose the question of whether a person like that would be content to retire to a small, isolated community. I feature my friends John and Andrea who did just that, selling their business where they worked seven days a week. They moved to a small beach community and they loved it at first. After all, they had vacationed there many times. But after building their home, then getting involved in local issues, they needed more. And they missed the day-to-day excitement and aggravations. They missed going out in the evenings, to dinner, to shows, to cultural events. Eventually they realized what they had to do, and it wasn’t move back, it was to open a restaurant. They had never owned a restaurant, so that gave them even more challenges and battles to conquer. They’re happy as clams now and, ironically, starting to slow down. But this time, it’s not a radical all or nothing change. They’re relishing more time with their grandkids. They’re delegating more of the work to run the restaurant. And they spend more time going on trips away, helping them get their Urbanville kicks.

They were lucky and they were persistent. They managed to build a new life for themselves even though their first decision wasn’t the smartest for them at the time. Not everyone has the resources to make the changes they did. But we all have the resources to look at ourselves and know who we are. The tiger doesn’t change his stripes, the saying goes. You’re not likely to change your lifestyle either, unless some outside force causes it (because of an illness or injury, for example).

Now, when the cleanup is starting, is a good time to think about what you’d like your life to be. Now is a good time to reflect upon who you are, what you like to do, where you’d like to be. It’s no secret who you are or what you like to do. Spend a few moments observing yourself. It’ll become very clear to you by what you do in your spare time and what makes you smile. That’s what you like to do. That’s who you are. Don’t judge it, just accept it. It doesn’t have to be who you are forever. It’s now. And you get to decide when you want to change that.

Don’t let a big storm determine who you are. But let it help you reflect on your life.

I came across this headline: We're seeing it in this article, and it's a line we will be hearing more: "75 is the new 65." My initial reaction is, “I know this is supposed to be complimentary about 75-year olds. But damn, we still can’t accept who we are and we continue to discredit age.”

No, my friends, 75 is not the new 65. 75 is 75 and it’s just fine the way it is.

That said, I do get it. I do understand that the writer is talking about older workers (click here to see the article). And, btw, to the writer, Raghav Singh, 75-year olds are not boomers. The oldest boomer is 70, having been born in 1946.

Mr. Singh says that older workers are more settled, focused, grateful, and mindful workers who set an example for younger generations and mentor them. That may be true and I certainly support the notion that anyone who can and wants to work when he or she is 75 should not face discrimination. My good pal, the jobs expert and author Kerry Hannon, continues to write wonderful books and articles helping older people in their quest for work and new opportunities. And as Mr. Singh points out, more needs to be done to accommodate older works.

But I also hope that people who work at 75 are doing so because they want to, not because they have to, although I suspect that’s not the case. Poverty has more than crept into the upper age brackets. Remember, more than two thirds of the people who receive Social Security benefits live solely on those benefits, with very limited assets to boost their income. And the average Social Security benefit is somewhere around $1,300 per month. So many 75-year olds probably have to work just to pay their bills.

Still, it roils me to read that heading. I know many 75-year olds – some of my best friends are 75 – and some do choose to work, either full- or part-time. Some have chosen to retire and are fortunate that they have to financial resources to do so. Neither are more interesting or engaged people. I love the fact that there are many opportunities open to 75-year olds. But they don’t have to pretend to be 65.

I remember when my father was 90 and still hustling for legal work to keep busy. He would lie about his age, claiming to be 78. Who would know, he’d say. Most people can’t tell the difference between a 90-year old and a 78-year old, anymore than those of us who are 65+ can’t tell 35 from 45. We all laughed about my father’s lie but his reasoning was pretty sound: no one is going to hire him for any project knowing that he’s 90+. They figure he’d die before he even got to the second paragraph. Even my father would joke that at his age is didn’t buy green bananas.

To be totally honest, if I was the employer I’m not sure I’d hire a 90-year old either. But 75? Versus 65? While I really hope there’s not that much discrimination out there, I know that’s not the case. People still have this notion of what each age is. They remember their grandparents as being old when they were in their 60s and 70s. They remember or see their parents as old, even though they are just in their 60s or 70s. Yes, at that age we’re not as spry or agile as when we were in our 30s and 40s. But no longer able to work? It’s not as if we’re having to lift 200 lb. weights or climb over walls. Our minds haven’t degenerated, even at that ripe old age of 75.

So mostly I hope that people who reach that great age of 75 celebrate their age. The more who say it loudly and proudly, the more we’ll all understand that 75 is not the new 65, but just 75. And that’s a beautiful age.

]]>Thu, 10 Dec 2015 21:00:30 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/done-with-diy-try-difmI just read that Home Depot, the mecca for do-it-yourselfers, is realizing that we boomers may now be less interested in DIY and more interested in DIFM (that’s “Do it for Me.”).

How very smart of them. Despite having more free time on our hands, and having formerly relished the challenges and cost savings of doing work on our homes by ourselves, we’re done with that. Time to let others do it. Am I alone in this? I hardly think so. I’ve talked with many peers and I hear the same tune, “Eh, well, I just don’t really feel like doing that repair. I just don’t have the energy.” Or, “You know, it’s getting harder for me to climb that big ladder. Do you know a good handyman?”

Home Depot heard that same refrain and apparently they’re ramping up to focus on catering to the professional contractors. As owners of our homes for many years, we’re still interested in home improvement, especially if we’re thinking about sprucing it up to sell. But instead of going to Home Depot to buy the stuff we need to make the repair or improvement, or buying that cool tool, we’re hiring handymen and small contractors, who then go to Home Depot to buy their supplies. It’s a different clientele who have different shopping needs. So that’s the Home Depot business model now.

DIY is not over. Millennials, the generation that’s even larger than boomers, are not quite fully into home buying yet. But they will likely soon be and will probably have the same DIY ethos. Still, for Home Depot to stay profitable in the shorter term, they realize they have to fill the boomers’ needs. Once again, “if fill the needs of the baby boomer generation you will succeed." Apparently we still have enough buying power to sway.

I recall how great it felt when I remodeled my first home. I still brag about replumbing, rewiring, stripping floors and wooden windows, and saving tons of money by doing it myself. I read manuals (we didn’t have it online then—in fact there was no ‘online’ except in New York where people stand on line, not in line). I held the book up next to me as I read, “the red wire connects to the black one, and the green to the white,” (or maybe that’s backwards. I could never remember, especially when wiring a 3-way switch). I got jolted, I got soaked, I repaired one water leak and then had to repair several others downstream, and I had paint-stripping goop all over my clothes at the end of the day. But I saved thousands!

I still need to save thousands. In fact, as my earnings have diminished, it’s even more important that I save money in home repairs. But, well, I just don’t really feel like doing that repair. I just don’t have the energy. And besides, my millennial son-in-law can do it!

]]>Mon, 19 Oct 2015 17:44:08 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/want-that-creative-feeling-be-idleWhen you’re overwhelmed with stuff—all the life and business things that make up your daily routine—you usually don’t feel too creative. There’s a gap that grows between your psyche and your spirit. It gnaws at you. You can’t even put a finger on what or why, but you feel the gap. In my experience you generally can’t will yourself to be creative, although many artists writers say that discipline and focus can bring out your creativity.

When you’re totally absorbed in your job, family matters, daily routine, and the business of life, you’re on the go. Even your brain is moving. It can’t keep up and it certainly can’t rattle around like it needs to do to be creative. There’s no time for that.

But that’s where your creativity comes from. It comes from nothing. It comes when you’re not running. It comes from stopping to smell the roses, so to speak. You get a whiff and suddenly there are no deadlines or chores in your way. You’re not bored you’re idle. And while it says in Proverbs (16:27-29), “idle brains are the devil’s workshop,” neuroscientists have found that important activity in the brain—related in particular to memory and learning, the foundation of creativity—may occur when it is at rest.

I went to see the Broadway show, “Beautiful” last week, the show about Carole King and her music. It's a totally fun show and the music is fantastic of course. See it if you can. The story line—all about Carole King—is really about inspiration and writing from your heart. I have to say that it made me envious. It made me want to do more writing from the heart, not from the wallet.

So stop for a bit. Slow down. Let your brain rattle around. Get bored. Listen to your insides. You don’t have to be doing something every minute. Remember those moments when you wake up in the middle of the night and you lie there thinking, “I have to go to sleep. I have to go to sleep. I have to do this and that and I have to go to sleep NOW!”

Doesn’t work, does it? At one point you get tired, your brain stops cranking, and suddenly it’s a couple of hours later, with you awakening from a pretty good bit of rest. You may not remember anything you thought about hours ago. But you feel pretty good.

It’s the same with creativity. You just have to let all those creativity neurons fire when they need to, not when other neurons tell them to.

Be idle. Then create.

]]>Mon, 17 Aug 2015 00:57:57 GMThttp://www.bartastor.com/blog/losing-a-friend-is-not-only-heartbreaking-its-life-changingMy wife and I suffered the loss of a best friend. We are profoundly saddened and feel enormous grief for her husband. All of us miss terribly the person we knew and loved for some 30 years. But we realize too, that we miss not only her, but also the future we will no longer have together. That’s an unwelcomed life change. The four of us traveled together extensively. Every year we embarked on what came to be known as our “Ski and Sea” trip – a week skiing followed by a week in the sun, generally in the Caribbean. Sometimes we even went directly from the snow to the sea, which made for some interesting packing decisions. The four of us celebrated just about every holiday, birthday, and anniversary together. We lived close by so getting together for dinner on a Saturday was a common occurrence. Even our occupations overlapped so table talk was often sprinkled with shop talk. We were truly family in the most intimate sense of the word.

What we now mourn is the loss of our future...

The past will always be with us. What we now mourn is the loss of our future, one that will no longer include one fourth of the “us.” Going on vacation will mean the three of us or going with someone else at times – and we all know it’s hard to find people you can travel with successfully. Holidays and special occasion dinners will never be at her house with her serving as hostess. Her death means that my life has changed. I guess that’s what it means when someone says a part of you dies when a loved one goes. The part of me that died with her is my future. Getting older means we lose people close to us. We will outlive those who succumb to diseases and accidents. It will happen more and more and each loss will be heartfelt. At our age now, we have already lost many dear friends and family. Both my wife and I have lost our parents, but that’s to be expected. My father died at 96 after a wonderful and fulfilled life. Our other three parents died at younger ages but again, it’s the normal turn that the older generation leaves us. I’m now a member of that older generation and though I’m considerably south of my 90s, when I die the next generation will say the same thing, namely, that it’s the normal turn of events. Hopefully it won’t be for a long while and hopefully the kids will also be able to say that I lived a fulfilled life. But my friend was a peer, not of the older generation. That makes her death very different. She wasn’t the first—indeed, my first loss was as a 6-year old who lost a classmate. A few others died throughout the years. And when I got into my fifties and sixties, more and more friends got sick and died. But never did I lose someone so close to me, someone with whom I had so much history. And most importantly, someone I would have had many experiences and adventures with in the future. I mourn her loss and grieve for the loss I will endure for the rest of my life.